


The J-word

by clio_jlh



Series: Imagine Me and You [21]
Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Humor, Jealousy, M/M, RPF, Romance, Season/Series 07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-22
Updated: 2008-05-22
Packaged: 2017-10-03 05:25:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clio_jlh/pseuds/clio_jlh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Simon doesn't really mind Ryan baring his teeth at any and all rivals, perhaps some reassurance is in order.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The J-word

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Ryan's season of claiming behavior. Huge thanks to [](http://ali_wildgoose.livejournal.com/profile)[**ali_wildgoose**](http://ali_wildgoose.livejournal.com/) and [](http://lillijulianne.livejournal.com/profile)[**lillijulianne**](http://lillijulianne.livejournal.com/) for looking this over.

"God," Ryan said, breathless, "I couldn't wait to get you alone."

"Nice to hear you calling me by my proper title," Simon murmured.

"Shut up," Ryan replied, kissing him again and slipping a hand into Simon's unbuttoned shirt.

"Couldn't wait to touch that, could you?"

"Honestly? No. I meant that, about it being distracting. Especially when I could be doing this," he said, pinching a nipple between two knuckles, making Simon moan softly into his mouth.

"Good to know I still turn you on, love." Simon pulled back. "Why don't you come to my trailer, ready to go, but don't change. Just bring your other clothes in your bag. I have a little something for you."

Ryan cocked his head. "Is it good?"

Simon grinned. "Oh, it's _very_ good," he said, and walked out the door.

Ryan reached for his shoulder bag and thought it had better fucking be, after the week he'd had. Or the month, even. Something had shifted this year, and he suddenly felt the urge to bare his teeth at almost anyone Simon decided to shine that spotlight of his on. First it was Leona Lewis, though that was more about those stupid Simon-bought-her-a-house rumors than anything else, and now—well, where did Simon get off having David Cook sing fucking "First Time Ever I Saw Your Face"? Or looking at Cook like that? Honestly!

Even weirder, Ryan had come out on top in nearly all of their on-air exchanges this year, which had never been true in the past. And it was usually Simon who was jealous and growling, because it was Ryan who could actually touch the singers, and often did. Sometimes too much for Simon's comfort, at least in the case of Ace Young two years ago, and it had taken Ryan two weeks to talk (well, fuck) Simon back down from _that_ one.

But this was just silly. He wasn't going anyplace, and he knew Simon wasn't going anyplace, knew it more surely than he ever had. And yet, here he was, behaving like some animal on a nature special, keeping the other males away from his mate. Or at least, looking at his chest hair.

Meanwhile, without being fully aware of packing up or even leaving his own trailer, Ryan found himself at Simon's door. "Hey."

"Hello," Simon said, waving him in and taking the duffel off his shoulder. The room was half in shadow, lit only by the lamp on the table against a mirrored wall, where Simon's hand on his back guided him.

"Only one chair?" Ryan asked.

Simon sat down. "Just stand here as you do when you're introducing someone."

"Okay," Ryan said, leaning on the table, his hands flat, bent at the waist next to Simon. He could see Simon in the mirror, looking at him.

"When you're standing here like this," he said, quietly, "it's all I can do not to stare at your arse. You're sticking it out in my face, almost daring me to touch it."

"You've been able to resist so far," Ryan replied.

"Hmm. But what if I couldn't?" he asked. "What if I did this?" He reached up, sliding his hand across Ryan's ass.

Ryan bit his lip. Simon's expression was so casual, as though nothing was happening, yet his left hand was groping Ryan as though they were in their bedroom.

"What would you do, Ryan?"

"I … I don't know," he said, a little lamely, shifting his feet a little.

"Ah, did you ever notice that you do that?" Simon asked.

"What?"

"When you're turned on, you arch your back and stick out your arse. Sometimes we start snogging and I know you want more when I get a sudden handful. I love it; you're a natural-born bottom, darling."

Ryan cleared his throat. "I can top _you_."

"Mmm, you really can. Which makes it all the more remarkable." His thumb ran along the inseam of Ryan's trousers, teasing him.

"What?"

"That we found each other." His fingers slipped down, between Ryan's now slightly-spread legs, to stroke his balls through the thin suit fabric.

"Simon, please."

"What is it?"

"Please let me take these trousers off."

"No, I don't think so," he said. "You need to know what you're risking when you stand next to me like this." His hand moved, so his thumb was brushing across Ryan's little hole, and his fingertips brushed against his cock. "Oooh, lovely, hard just from this?"

"Simon. Simon _please_." He pushed back into Simon's palm, arching his back more.

"I wonder if you even know what you're begging for anymore," Simon said, thoughtfully.

It was all Ryan could do to keep his eyes open, maintain eye contact in the mirror, but watching Simon be so nonchalant when Ryan was writhing under his touch was an unexpected turn on. "Take them off," he said.

"But we can't have you nude on telly," Simon said. "We'd be fined. Imagine, you standing there, and the song's only started, and you're so desperate for me to finish you off." He was rubbing Ryan's cock now, fingers spread across his crotch. "And you come right there, in your pants and trousers, all wet and sticky, and that stain spreading. Everyone stares—you're practically cock-level with the audience anyway, aren't you? Everyone will know what a slut you are for me."

"Everyone … already … knows," Ryan managed, his voice hitching. But the image of that tell-tale stain flashed in his brain, and that, and Simon's expert and practiced fingers, overwhelmed him and he came, teeth clenched, semen spurting into his Calvins. "Simon."

"I know, darling," he said, standing up. "Don't worry, I won't make you stay in them for long. Come over here." He wrapped an arm around Ryan, who was still trying to catch his breath. "I have something you'll recognize."

Simon turned him around, and now that his eyes had gotten used to the darkness he could see the podium he used on results night.  
"I know, we've used it before," Simon said, "but never like this. Assume your position, darling."

Ryan bent over slightly to rest his hands on the podium as Simon, unsurprisingly, stood behind him.

"When I was jealous about Ace—silly really, but when I was, you fucked some sense into me, didn't you?"

"Yes, but—"

"Well, now I'm going to return the favor. I want you to look out over that podium and see those finalists, all sitting nicely on their couch. Let's say, when they're gathered for photos right after the show ends. Got it?"

"Yes."

"Right, but there's no audience, no one else there. No Randy, no Paula, no Nigel, no Magda. Just you and me, and the finalists."

"Okay."

Simon thrust against him, hot and dry and lovely. "I'm going to show them now, show them who you belong to. And who I belong to." Simon's hands were on his ass again, and Ryan realized he really _did_ push back when he wanted it. "I love these jackets you wear. They fit so well over your arse and this flap will cover us so nicely." He reached around, unzipped Ryan's trousers. "Such a perfect fit in the trousers, too; I bet they'll stay up for a while anyway. Don't need them seeing your pretty legs." Simon pushed them down in the back with one hand, while the other held them up in front; when he got them arranged where he wanted them, he let go, and they did stay up in a way. Then there were fingers, lovely long lube-coated fingers sliding into him while the other hand pulled his jacket flap down, hiding all.

Ryan rolled into it, shameless, and then Simon moved a little and he could hear the zipper of his fly. A little movement, and then it was Simon's cock, hard and hot and insistent, pushing into him. "Simon," he moaned, closing his eyes and tossing his head back.

"No, now, eyes open, eyes on them," Simon said. "Can you see them, watching me fuck you?"

"Yes." And he could, even though he couldn't say. He tried to memorize the images, save them to tell Simon later: Carly, flushing and crossing her legs; Ramiele giggling, almost daring them to do it; Brooke not knowing _where_ to look but not being able to look away, either; Amanda cracking up, as though she'd cheer them on; Syesha and Kristy Lee whispering to each other in the back. And the boys—Michael was smirking, and so was Hernandez though he was sure for different reasons; Castro's thumbs were up and so were Chikezie's, oddly; poor Archuleta had his hands over his eyes but was peeking through his fingers. David Cook was just watching them with that hot stare, and Ryan stared right back, as if to say, "You can't have this. This is mine."

"Why would I want that young man?" Simon said, as if he'd read Ryan's thoughts. He was thrusting deeper, getting into the rhythm of it now. "Why, when I have all this?"

"_Mine_," Ryan growled.

"That's right, darling," Simon said. "So deep with you." He was going faster now, and Ryan realized how much it all turned Simon on, too, and he wanted to help, pushing back into him, grabbing him with his ass. "God, gonna—" and Simon slammed up against him and stayed there, pushing, coming inside him, and Ryan's cock twitched a little, too.

Simon didn't pull out, but stood upright, wrapping his arms around Ryan. "No other man in my bed, Ryan," he said, right into his ear. "They're nothing, next to you."

"I love you so much," Ryan said.

"I know," Simon said. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

Later, in the car—not the new one, just the little black convertible—Ryan said, "I never really let myself be jealous before."

Simon smiled. "I didn't give you much reason, all those girls. But I must admit, I do love seeing you like this."

"E-G-O," Ryan replied.

"Just good to know you appreciate me. You'd fight over me, wouldn't you?"

"Well, not if you weren't sure about me. This isn't some dating show. But yeah, I'd warn people away."

"Sexy little growl you've got."

"So glad you approve," he said. Funny, he'd thought the jealousy would make him feel neurotic, but instead he felt confident as anything.

"I love you, Ryan Seacrest."

"I know," Ryan said.


End file.
